


Summer Colors

by radioactivebraingunk (paperguns)



Series: the clouds would clear tomorrow, when I disappear [2]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/M, im gonna edit it when i have time but for now have this, this took a long time but im quite happy with it, toukenweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:04:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2565995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperguns/pseuds/radioactivebraingunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She watched the light glint off his hair, the way his lips turned up into a smile as he linked their fingers together, and she felt her heart burst with summer heat and something even hotter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Colors

**Author's Note:**

> summer isnt summer without summer festivals amirite  
> this has references to part 1 of the series so if some parts puzzle you they are from that. while this isnt a direct sequel to it, it is recommended that you read the first one before this

Shining streets and gravity  
Intersection of summer colors  
entwined fingers and entangled threads  
communing days piled up

   
You laughed   
you just, laughed.

-       _[Doors](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKXhG6C8YU4)_

 

 

            She honestly never intended to go the festival but something pushed her to go don her yukata, which was buried deep in some boxes she never meant to unpack, full of knick knacks and mementos that honestly have no right to be unearthed again. She held the cloth close to her, the old musty smell of dark cupboards overpowering the faint scent of her old detergent and the hot summer sun. It was a bit short on her, rising a few centimeters higher than when she wore it last time, which wasn’t actually a bit long ago but felt like a decade to her. Digging through the box once more, she found a matching pouch and a set of accessories inside.

            Looking at herself in the mirror, she felt a bit silly. She’s too old for this, for yukatas and summer festivals, for memories she refused to clamp down, for soft bitter sighs that never reached their recipient. Her hand rose, coiling her hair on top of her head before fixing it in place with a pin she received as a gift long ago. The delicate flowers were still unblemished, vibrant shards of purple against sleek ebony, still beautiful as it was that day. Picking up her pouch, she headed out.

            The festival was already full of people by the time she arrived. She felt herself hesitate, intimidated by the large crowd, glancing nervously at the groups that toured the place together. She felt kind of awkward, going alone in a lively place like this. She turned around, mind made up to leave; _this whole thing is pointless anyway_ ringing in her mind. As she made to go, she walked into a warm wall, almost falling to the ground if not for the arms that steadied her.

            She blushed, apologizing and bowing profusely, refusing to look up at the other person’s face.  “Long time no see, Touka.” was something she didn’t expect to hear though and she immediately straightened up, a small gasp escaping her lips.

            “Nishiki?”

 

 

            They were quite far from the festivities, pale orange beams from the numerous stalls lighting the whole place up like a beacon. They sat by one of the unoccupied benches, cups of coffee nestled in their hands. She never had trouble speaking to him before, but it had been a year or so she wasn’t really sure. Normally, she would’ve panicked since both of them are “fugitives” so to speak, and her carelessness might cost both of their lives. Nishiki’s nonchalance threw her off though, and she managed to calm down a little.

            “You didn’t change your name?” she asked him.

            “Nope.” He answered, his long frame spread tiredly across his seat. “I didn’t see the point although, yes it is safer but I never seriously considered it at all. My reasons” he droned on, before she could even ask, “are not important.”

            They sat in silence after that, content to sip their coffees in amicable quiet. Around them, the festival still went on, various sounds spilling into each other making a cacophonous din but she strangely felt relaxed. A long time ago she would have never imagined that being with Nishiki would bring her comfort, but after months of hiding, of empty seats and full coffee mugs, and of phantom voices lurking in every corner, his presence was reassuringly familiar and a tad nostalgic.

            “Why are you here?” she asked, breaking the silence.

            “Work.” He said simply. “Work gets your mind off things, nothing but manual labor and shitty employers to worry about, instead of unnecessary things. After a hard day at work, I don’t have dreams when I sleep and I want to keep it that way.”

            He stood up promptly; crushing the empty coffee can easily in his hand before looking at her. “You looked exactly like I did, back then.” He said seriously. “You’ve got to stop thinking about it, about them, about him. Don’t ruin yourself.”

            He turned around, his figure strangely lacking against the bright lights of the festival. “Oh yeah, you dropped this.” He said, before throwing something towards her. She started, rushing over to catch it. It was a keychain, a very familiar keychain.

            She hurriedly stood up, looking for Nishiki. But he was already gone.

 

           

            It was impossible. Her head reeled as she turned over the keychain in her hands, her fingers running over every groove and bump. She recognized the small indent on one paw of the bunny, caused when she accidentally leant on it, and the small blue splotches from her pen during a night of cramming and feverish essay-writing. She didn’t remember losing it, carefully placing it with other important trinkets in a box. But how did this turn up here? Unless,

            She spun around, scanning the crowds of people looking for a familiar mop of hair. She wove through groups, sneaking through small spaces between stalls, desperately looking for him. Her feet hurt but she can’t stop, she had already gone this far. A shock of white against the dark sea caught her eye. She paused, gasping for air, her eyes widening as he weakly smiled at her, a hand raised in greeting.

            “You’re late.” He said, and grinned.

 

 

            She seriously considered kicking him for leading her on a goose chase and other things that she knew he wasn’t really the one at fault. But before she could say something he shepherded her towards the stalls, excitedly babbling about something she didn’t really listen. She was busy looking at him, checking if he’s real or one of her phantoms. He noticed her scrutiny and smiled good-naturedly at her, causing a stain to spread across her cheeks. So she kicked him across the shins, grinning triumphantly at his yelp of pain.

            He won her a plush rabbit from a shooting game, after several rounds and yens spent. It was a fuzzy little thing, with a huge bow around its neck in a shade of garish pink which hurt her eyes. They spent some time dismantling the bow, then replacing with his black tie and a hairpin she donated, before it was to her satisfaction. She then beat him at the goldfish scooping stall, the loser having to take home the fishes. He sighed heavily as she proudly handed him three bags that housed the shimmering orange creatures. He offered to buy her a snack to which she replied, “Are you crazy?” so they settled for some freshly brewed coffee from a small stall ran by a kindly old man who commented how a lovely pair they made, which resulted in an outbreak of rosy cheeks and red ears.

            An announcement rang through the speakers, notifying the people of the start of the fireworks display. The crowd started to move, looking for good spots to watch the display. They moved with the crowd, not really sure where the best places are. They got separated more than once, and by the fourth time he gently gripped her hand. She let out a small squeak of surprise and he didn’t even look at her, staring ahead and leading her through the mass of people. But she could see that his ears were burning brightly and their hands threatened to slip off each other, cold with nerves and sweat.

            Luckily, they found a nice spot with few people and a clear view of the sky. The air was tense with excitement, and they could hear some people cheering and laughing. Even though it was summer, the night was pleasantly warm. They stood silently next to each other, her hands gripping the rails lightly as she tried not to think of the couples near them. A cool breeze wafted towards them, whistling through their hair. He reached towards her and she gulped nervously, standing still as he gently brushed away stray strands from her face.

            The sky exploded above them in a thunderous display of brightly colored lights but they didn’t notice, too focused on each other. His hand didn’t leave the spot on her cheek where it settled, his eyes gazing intently at her. She could feel her heart pound against her chest, not used to this attention from him. She shakily raised her hand to hold the one that stayed on her cheek, watching the lights dance across his hair like fireflies, his eyes lighting up as he looped his fingers between hers and held it tight.

            It was too much, even for her. She could feel herself burn, a pleasant warmth spreading from her chest to her fingertips and toes. As the fireworks continued behind them, he slowly went closer until no distance separated them and she could feel him against her lips, fireworks bursting in her stomach into butterflies as they moved against each other and she couldn’t breathe.

            He smiled shyly at her, swinging their linked hands lightly. She saw his lips move, his voice drowned by the sounds around them. And when all is over, and she was the only one left, did she grasp what he said.

            “Like flowers in a storm, life is all about goodbyes.”

 

            The next day when she woke up she immediately brewed coffee and sat down, smiling at the fishes swimming serenely in their bowl. Steam rose from her mug as she took a sip, the seat across from her empty, a mug kept at the back of the cupboard. The room was silent, except for the sounds of the early morning.

           

            _“Like flowers in a storm, life is all about goodbyes. But this isn’t farewell, isn’t it?”_

**Author's Note:**

> kaneki's line is from a popular Masuji Ibuse quote, i just added the last bit uwu


End file.
